


obsess

by asymmetric



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Humiliation kink, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, tiny dick luke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4057105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asymmetric/pseuds/asymmetric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, Michael's known for ages that Luke's got a cock that's sort of smaller than average. It's just an observation he's made from years of glimpsing it during their various naked moments. He's never tried to look really closely to estimate what the actual size is, because the rest of the band is straight and off-limits, and Michael's not a fan of torturing himself with what he can't have. But in the back of his mind, Michael has lined up Luke's dick with his height and his broad shoulders and thought, no way. It's gotta be bigger when he's hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	obsess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyclogenesis (addictedkitten)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/gifts).



> soooo
> 
> this is belated birthday fic for sara. i tried to write on topics i felt she would enjoy so if i am wildly off base i apologizeee
> 
> actually i apologize anyway
> 
> there is dickishness for the sake of kink things and improperly negotiated kink due to dumb boys acting instead of communicating woo-hoo don't follow their example

In the time that Michael has been friends with Luke, he's seen him naked more times than he can count. Skinny dipping adventures aside (it was only twice, and it had been dark), Michael has spent almost every day of the past four years with the same three guys. Shared nudity is almost like a band thing now, friendship built through flashes of bare skin in close proximity. He's familiar with Luke's pale ass and thighs and the way he hops up and down while trying to tug on his skinny jeans. He knows Luke's chest and nipples and the particular twist of his bare back when he shrugs on a shirt. Michael could probably pick any member of his band out of a lineup just based on their silhouette alone, nevermind their naked bod. 

The point is, Michael has absolutely seen Luke's dick before. Absolutely. 

So there is no rational explanation for why Michael can't stop thinking about it now. 

Specifically, the size of it. 

Dick jokes in the band tend to revolve around Ashton—who gets boners that are hard to conceal at inappropriate moments, like when they're on camera and in towels—or Michael, who's been stuck with the recurring joke of the “cliffoconda” ever since that term was coined and Luke jokingly tossed him an extra large condom thrown onstage while announcing to the crowd that it was “probably meant for Michael”. Calum doesn't get skipped completely—he lounges around naked a lot in a way that makes it so someone has to acknowledge his dick just because it's so clearly out there—and everybody's dick gets grabbed and groped over their clothes at some point, but in all of their dick-related escapades the size of Luke's dick is never brought up.

See, Michael's known for ages that Luke's got a cock that's sort of smaller than average. It's just an observation he's made from years of glimpsing it during their various naked moments. He's never tried to look really closely to estimate what the actual size is, because the rest of the band is straight and off-limits, and Michael's not a fan of torturing himself with what he can't have. But in the back of his mind, Michael has lined up Luke's dick with his height and his broad shoulders and thought, no way. It's gotta be bigger when he's hard. He's a grower. And Michael's fine with this assumed fact being part of his list of things he knows about Luke. He's fine with not thinking about it ever.

Until Calum's dick gets plastered across the whole internet.

Calum puts on a brave face, but they all know he feels weird about it, no matter how many offhand jokes he makes on twitter. He's unusually quiet all day when it leaks, nervous in a way Michael hates to see. They all huddle in the back lounge of the bus, Calum tucked small into Ashton's side, the rest of them trying not to stare at him.

“None of the rest of you guys have dick pics or videos out there we need to worry about, right?” Ashton says. He's half-joking, but he's got the big-brother face on all the same.

Michael shakes his head and Luke looks up from his phone to say, “What? No way.”

His tone of voice sort of sounds like _obviously I wouldn't do something that dumb,_ and Calum's face shutters.

“Of course you wouldn't send anyone a picture of your dick,” Calum says sharply. “Why would you want to advertise to a girl that she'd need a microscope to fucking find it?”

Michael chokes on a laugh, and Luke gapes at Calum.

“Okay, guys,” Ashton says, holding his hands out between them like they're going to start lunging at each other. “We're all on edge, but there's no need for fighting.”

“I'm not fighting with anyone,” Calum says, standing up so he can look down on them all. “Just stating facts.”

He bangs his way out of the lounge, and Luke, red-faced, yells after him, “I—I'm a grower!”

Ashton sighs. “Great conversation, guys. Really helpful.”

Luke turns to look at Michael, making intense and paralyzing eye contact. Michael freezes.

“I mean it!” Luke insists. His eyes are very wide and he's not blinking at all. He looks just like he does when he's trying to cheat at cards or trick Michael into believing that there only ever was one danish on the food table. “I—I grow, it—”

“Yeah, okay, we all took basic biology, we get it,” Ashton says, getting up to follow Calum.

“Yeah,” Michael echoes slowly. Luke finally blinks, going somehow even redder, and then looks back at his phone, slumping down on the padded bench until his knees are curled up above his chest. He looks embarrassed and ruffled, hunching like being smaller will protect him, and Michael is almost positive that Luke just looked him in the face and lied.

After that, Michael can't get it out of his head. He's obsessed. Luke's crotch seems to fall into Michael's eyeline anytime he looks up, and he can't look away. It's like Luke's junk is some sort of secret temple and Michael's the archaeologist dying to uncover it—the flat stretch of denim when Luke's got his legs spread seems like the walls of a pyramid or a ufo, concealing something unknown and interesting and fucking weird. It's not even really a sexual thing (except it's not _not_ a sexual thing, because Michael keeps having to think really intently about gross things like his dad's high school graduation picture or Calum's feet to keep his own fucking dick down); it's more like a scientific thing. Michael is curious just because the world needs to know. Luke Hemmings lied about being a grower, so what does his boner actually look like? Science needs to know. For encyclopedias and stuff. Michael just wants to add to the world's general knowledge. 

His hyper-vigilant awareness of Luke makes him jumpy and awkward around him, barking out stupid things like he did when they were in year nine and the only way he knew to keep Luke's eyes on him was to insult him. Luke gets weird around him in response and stops coming to him for cuddles, and that just makes Michael grumpier. He wanks angrily in his bunk while the others are out, wondering if his hands could swallow up Luke's dick, if they would look big in comparison. After he comes he presses his knuckles to his eyes and tries to get the tight, swollen feeling in his chest to go down. He hasn't jerked it to the thought of one of his friends since he was 16 (Ashton had just joined the band and his straightness wasn't 100% confirmed yet—it was a confusing time), and this feels like a failure.

A few days later, they're playing a show in a city where they get hotel rooms instead of having to bunk on the bus for sure. Usually Michael is happier when they share rooms, because he's a people person, fuck what anyone else says, but this time he takes his single room happily. Luke's room is at the other end of the hall, near Calum and Ashton's, and Michael can be alone with his sick thoughts and his horrible, traitorous dick.

Because of the rooms, he's optimistic at the start of the day, but it swiftly goes downhill as soon as they run offstage and Calum and Luke start making loud plans to go out. Michael takes one look at Luke's smile and his fever-bright eyes and knows; Luke's going to go on the pull. 

Luke on the pull is actually pretty awkward to watch—he mostly just stands around waiting for some enterprising girl to decide she likes the look of him and come on over—but because he's Luke and stupidly attractive, it always works. Michael knows that Luke is going to get laid tonight, and Michael isn't, because Michael is going to be cooped up in his room thinking about Luke getting laid. And what his dick looks like hard.

“Mikey, you wanna come?” Calum asks. Michael rarely goes out with them, but Calum always asks, because that's what best friends do.

“Nah,” Michael grunts, staring determinedly at his bag as he zips it up. “I'm pretty tired, gonna just play some League and crash.”

There's a pause, and Michael doesn't look up. Calum can read him too well, and he doesn't need any questions about why he's off right now. The funny thing is, he does kind of feel like going out, but even the slim possibility of him finding someone to go home with doesn't mean that he wants to go through the torture of watching Luke flirt.

“Ash, what about you?”

“Yeah, sure! Let's blow this place up!”

The other three whoop loudly and start dancing around in circles. Michael escapes the room before anyone else can talk to him.

He does end up playing League that night, staying up past the time when the others should have been back, hunched in front of the glow of his laptop. The entire room is dark and huge, and when Michael finally passes out, done waiting up for no reason, his last thought is that a single room isn't all that nice after all. 

He's pulled out of a confusing dream with many naked people and a boat by the sound of someone knocking on his door.

“What the fuck,” he says to his ceiling, and gets up to shuffle to the door.

When he pulls it open, Luke is slumped against the doorway, shoulders curled in defensively, shoe-less, but fully clothed. Michael's got his mouth open to repeat what he'd just said, maybe with more anger, but then Luke looks up at him with his face all open and sad-drunk, and fuck it. Michael beckons him inside.

“What is it?” he asks. His own voice is gravelly from sleep, and he's dazed enough that when Luke lurches past him to faceplant on the bed, he lets him.

Luke doesn't say anything, just lays there, his face in the sheets Michael was wrapped in just a minute ago. Michael's only in his boxers, and he feels cold and out of place staring at Luke's broad back stretched out on his bed.

“You okay?” Michael wanders closer, curling a hand around Luke's ankle when he gets within reach. He means to use the grip to pull him off the bed, but instead he just leaves his hand there, Luke's knobbly bones pressing into his palm. “Did you strike out at the club?”

Luke makes a weak noise into the mattress, shaking his head slightly, and Michael feels a flush go through his body. He lets go of Luke and climbs awkwardly over him so he can curl up on the unoccupied side of the bed, knees pressing into Luke's side.

“What did she do?” he whispers. “Suck really bad at blowjobs?”

It's meant to be a joke—a stupid one, but something to lighten the air. Luke doesn't laugh though, just flips onto his side so his back is to Michael. It feels like a rejection for a split second before Luke scoots backwards into Michael's body and Michael gets the hint, curving himself around Luke and tucking an arm over his waist to lock them together.

“She—” Luke swallows audibly. “I dunno, she just—I thought she liked me, she seemed to, when we were in the club, but when we got back here, she—she just left after.”

Michael has learned through real bro talks with Luke that the most important part of a one-night thing for him is the part where they pretend it's more than that. He needs to exchange numbers and kiss goodbye and fall asleep feeling good, even if he nor the girl have any intention of  keeping in contact. Luke and Ashton are both not very good at the casual thing, but Luke gets hit by it worse at lonely moments, like the middle of the night. Michael's never seen him right after something like this though. This is a first.

“That sucks, bro,” Michael murmurs, at a loss for what to say.

“I asked for her number and she laughed at me,” Luke continues. “She laughed at me during, too.”

Michael's hand flexes against Luke's stomach automatically at the idea of “during”. Just to be safe, he moves his hips away from Luke's ass; he doesn't want to risk getting a chub and having Luke feel it. Luke needs a friend right now, not a pining dick.

“What do you mean?” he says instead.

Luke's shoulder jerks up and down in a shrug. He's silent for a moment, and Michael presses his forehead to the bare peek of skin at the nape of Luke's neck, breathing in the smell of alcohol and smoke and exhausted sweat.

“She said I was easy,” Luke says softly. “And she laughed when I—you know, when I—once I got my pants off.”

Michael can't help it—Luke's too close and too warm. He presses a kiss to the skin right in front of him, lingering with his mouth there until he's sure he won't say something stupid like “I wouldn't treat you like that.”

“She sounds like an asshole,” he says, and for some reason Luke's whole body curls in more, fighting against Michael's hold.

“I liked it,” Luke says, fast and small.

“What?” Michael's hand has shifted down Luke's stomach in Luke's sudden movement—he can feel the edge of Luke's pants pressing a line against the back of his fingers and the rough feeling of denim on his skin. He wants to draw back and get some distance so he can understand what Luke's talking about without his own shit clouding up his head, but he can't bring himself to move away from the heat of Luke's body.

“I don't know,” Luke says, and his voice has gone fishing line tight, hooked on something huge. “It got me off, her like, her making fun of me, it was weird, Mikey, I don't—I don't get it—”

“You—got off on her being mean to you?” Michael says, uncomprehending, hot through his whole body with the idea of it. “What?”

Luke makes a strange, high noise, his body shuddering back against Michael, like he's about to start crying.

“It was so embarrassing,” he says. “I was so—”

Michael tightens his hand on Luke's stomach, trying to hold him still, and Luke's hips punch up, then squirm back, like he's looking for contact, tummy clenching under Michael's hand.

“Luke?” Michael says. He doesn't know what he's asking, but his whole body feels like a question right now, unsure what Luke's looking for from him. Is this a cuddle? Is this—

“Mikey,” Luke whimpers—actually fucking _whimpers,_ that plush, whiney voice he gets when he wants something. It's so dark in the room that Michael can't be certain that any of this is actually happening, and maybe it's that that unhinges his brain, because he slides his hand down and over the front of Luke's jeans, settling lightly on what could be just a fold of fabric, or what could be his dick.

Luke makes a choked sound and his hips grind up into Michael's hand for a split second before he goes completely still, caught out.

“Are you—” Michael whispers. “Are you getting off now?”

“Mikey,” Luke repeats, weaker this time.

“What did she do to you?” Michael asks. His head is spinning. He doesn't know what he's doing, only that he's definitely doing it. “Tell me.”

There's fresh sweat dampening the back of Luke's neck, and Michael kisses it off his skin, messy and open-mouthed. “She made me—she, she said I couldn't fuck her 'cause I wasn't—like, up to it, so she sat on my face and I, I ate her out 'till she came,” Luke gasps.

“Did she touch you?” Michael says. He presses his palm down slowly, feeling out the shape of Luke's cock—it's twitching against his hand, eager.

“She—she made me jerk off in front of her,” Luke says, breathless. “And she told me I was—that I was easy, that I looked ridiculous, and then she, she touched me and I—”

He loses the end of the sentence to a whine, and Michael goes for it, grabs at what he can feel of Luke's dick trapped in his jeans and plays with it, squeezing and rubbing it down against his crotch. It fits into his hand, and he can feel himself getting hard in his boxers, helpless not to.

“Did you come?” he hisses.

“Yes,” Luke sighs. “And she laughed at that.”

Michael licks his lips, so close to Luke that his tongue catches on Luke's neck. His thumb keeps skating over the button of Luke's pants, and he wants desperately to dip his hand inside and touch Luke for real.

“Sounds like she was right,” he says quietly, heart pounding. “You seem pretty easy to me.”

Luke's shoulder suddenly presses back harshly against him, and there's a second where Michael's sure he's miscalculated and that Luke is going to throw him off, but Luke just flips awkwardly onto his back, his eyes shining wet up through the darkness at Michael.

“Please,” he says. “Mikey, please,” and Michael can't get Luke's pants open fast enough.

Michael rips Luke's jeans down off his legs, Luke kicking to untangle them and help Michael toss them somewhere off into the blackness of the room, and then Luke is left in his t-shirt and boxers, breathing like he's just run up ten flights of stairs. Michael pauses only to take a deep breath himself—how the fuck did they get here, what the fuck is going on—before he's peeling Luke's boxers down and letting his dick bob out so Michael can see it.

It's barely bigger than it is soft, not even big enough to flop back on his stomach under its own weight, instead just wobbling in the air, swollen and dark. Michael stares, so turned on he doesn't know what to do with himself, and places a hand on Luke's hip, thumb dipping down to nudge at the soft hang of Luke's balls.

“'S cute,” he murmurs. “So fucking cute, jesus, Luke.” It's better than Michael could have possibly imagined; in all of his wank fantasies, he couldn't picture just how sweet it would look.

“Shut up,” Luke moans. He sounds wrecked, and Michael hasn't even touched him yet. _Yet—_ god, Michael can do that, Michael can touch him.

Michael wraps his fingers around Luke's cock and gives it a tug; it's firm and hot in his hand, and he barely has to move his fist to make it disappear in his fingers. He watches the head pop in and out of the circle of his fingers, shining drops of precome blurting out of the slit with every squeeze Michael gives.

“It's tiny,” Michael says quietly, wonderingly. Luke's dick throbs hard against his palm and he lets out a shocked laugh, swiping his thumb over the head and smearing the wetness around until his whole hand feels sticky with it. “Doesn't even look like it fucking belongs to you. Big all over except where it counts, huh?”

Luke makes a strangled sound, muscles shivering tense in his thighs and his stomach. He's biting down on the side of his left hand, staring wide-eyed up at Michael, and if he weren't leaking all over Michael's fingers Michael would think he looked scared. There's a sudden kick of anger in Michael's chest at the realization that he isn't the first person to see Luke like this today—some girl got to see this earlier, some girl got to use him and then didn't put him back together after.

“Did she touch you like this?” he asks, wanking Luke harder, tighter. “Or did you shoot off before she could even get her hand around you?”

Luke's fucking up into his hand as best he can, moving restlessly on the bed, and Michael puts his other hand on Luke's chest to hold him down. He's kneeling at Luke's side, looming over him, and Luke's dick is swelling like he's going to blow any second.

“You gonna come now?” Michael taunts, sick with how good the nasty tone tastes in his mouth. “You don't even care who's playing with your little cock, do you—don't care that I'm a guy 'cause you're so eager for it—”

“Michael,” Luke pants. “I'm, I—”

His eyes fall shut, and Michael can't even miss the eye contact because Luke is going off, faster and harder than Michael could've imagined, come spilling out thick and hot over Michael's fingers. Michael jerks him through it, feeling like he's been hit over the head with a paddle. Luke is loud and squirmy when he comes, making stupid noises and writhing around under Michael's hands, and when the giddiness in Michael's chest leaks out as a laugh, Luke's little cock twitches viciously, one last wide trickle of come jumping out of the slit.

Michael lets go when Luke starts to flinch, wiping his hand automatically on the sheets on the other side of Luke. He feels lightheaded, and his own cock is so hard he's a little worried that it's never going to go down again. Luke lies still, his chest going up and down with each deep breath, eyes closed, and it's Michael turn to be scared.

“Did she kiss you?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” Luke breathes. He opens his eyes and they find Michael's face immediately. “Yeah.”

He lifts his arms towards Michael, like he's asking for a cuddle, and Michael falls into him. He's too afraid to do more than press one tiny kiss to the corner of Luke's mouth, worried that he's going to give himself away, but he tucks his face into Luke's neck and sucks kisses there, flattening his whole body along Luke's. There's pressure on his dick finally in the form of Luke's leg, and he doesn't bother trying to hold back; he grinds down hard, rutting as fast as he can, shoving his dick into the meat of Luke's thigh. Luke's hands grip at his bare back, fingertips sliding over his slick skin, nails digging in for streaks of pressure, and Michael can feel Luke's soft, sticky cock against his leg, drying come rubbing tacky and strange on his skin. It's like his head is only just catching up with what's just happened—all he can see with his eyes closed is how little Luke's dick looked in his hand, how good it felt to touch him, how much he'd come everywhere and how his eyes squinched shut when he did. With that in his mind and the physical reality of Luke against him, Michael doesn't last any longer than Luke did, coming with a groan and a stutter of his hips, come soaking the inside of his boxers and sticking them to Luke's leg.

“Fuck,” he says softly. He forces himself to roll off of Luke so he doesn't crush him, and Luke follows him when he moves, curling up into the side of Michael's body. They make eye contact and Michael jerks his head away, staring up at the dark ceiling and trying to get his breath back. His boxers feel gross, and he kicks them off onto the floor, grumbling when a streak of come gets on his thigh.

“Mikey?” Luke says, and Michael tries not to tense up like an idiot. This is where he loses everything. This is where Luke realizes he just slept with a guy, with his best friend and bandmate, and leaves and everything gets awkward as fuck.

He grunts to show he's listening.

“You still like me?” Luke whispers. “You don't think I'm weird or—you're not gonna leave, right?”

Shocked, Michael turns his head to see Luke watching him with serious eyes, and he remembers all of a sudden Luke being upset that the girl wasn't interested as soon as she'd got what she wanted.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Michael says. “Come here.”

Luke squirms closer on the bed until they knock together, awkward limbs and bones and half-dried come everywhere. They end up face to face, arms around each other as best they can be, half under the covers and half on top. Luke's breath is heavy on his face, and Michael kisses his cheek, unable to not do so.

“Was that okay?” he asks, and he's not sure what he's referring to, but he's relieved as fuck when Luke nods anyway.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “It was good.”

“Okay,” Michael says, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “You know your dick's really cute, right? I've wanted—for a while.”

Luke's eyes have drifted shut, and for a long moment Michael thinks Luke's already asleep and hasn't heard him, but then Luke smiles, slow and warm.

Luke curls his hand tight around Michael's waist, and Michael stops obsessing.


End file.
